


Are you sure?

by Blue_Silver



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, brief suicide mention, but not much else, cuddling happens tbh, minor self hatred, only rated teen because I tend to swear like a sailor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Silver/pseuds/Blue_Silver
Summary: The inquisitor's older sister is comforted by her crush, it's literally that simple. See notes to appease my long winded ass





	Are you sure?

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be real honest with y'all. I've been dreading DA fanfic for months, but haven't had the balls to publish anything.  
> This is literally the first fanfiction I've published in at least 10 years, or longer. This was written as a self comfort, and is intended to be no more complicated than that. 
> 
> I'm a fat weirdo with anxiety/depression, and I wanted to put a character who acts like and looks like me into a fantasy setting.   
> Basically; I wrote this because I can't take advice directly from myself. I have incredibly negative self talk and have trouble believing anything positive, so I figured, maybe I'll believe myself a little more if I frame certain things as coming from a favorite character LI of mine.
> 
> I am probably going to write other things with this character, and others. When this will happen I have no fuckin idea, but it will happen at some point. Also, forgive my shitty formatting, I'm still sort of new to this shit
> 
> I'd like to take this opportunity to thank fanofmanyfictions on tumblr, who gave me advice and survived several far shittier drafts of this beast

She was drowning above water, and no one knew. Nobody cared, for that matter. Part of her couldn't blame them; it was her brother Max travelers came to see. If none the wiser one would never know she was even related to the 'herald of Andraste', leader of the Inquisition.  
She glanced around Skyhold's bustling main hall. Since the Circles had dissolved, her life had rather felt like a pendulum swinging madly out of control. The Circle had been everything she'd ever known, having been carted off there at the first sign of magic. She shivered, unrelated to the chill in the air. Weren't countless possibilities supposed to thrill?  
Considering she'd only known her brother for a few months, since joining the Inquisition, they were especially close. At least there was that.

She let out a despondent sigh she hadn't known she was holding. Talk of the upcoming ball at the Winter Palace had dominated the collective consciousness as of late, and she dreaded it more with each passing day.  
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a passing scout's armor and huffed, scowling. Her face was chubby, with prominent, high cheekbones; she could already hear Orlesians asking why she wasn't wearing a mask. And the dress itself? She laughed bitterly, in spite of herself. Josephine would sooner find a tailor willing to dress Corypheus.

She was easily a foot shorter than her younger brother, and probably twice his weight, she thought. Proportionate though she was, she was always painfully aware of how her plush, rounded stomach stuck out, and the wideness of her hips.  
Though she constantly kept herself busy with Inquisition matters when not traveling with Max, guilt chipped away at her insides. She should always do more, do it better, do it differently; nothing was ever enough.

Upon hearing the Commander's title in passing, her cheeks grew warm. She'd had it bad for him since their introduction in Haven, but dared not speak of it. It was ill-advised, and unattainable, anyway. He was very much a gentleman. Surely he knew of and didn't reciprocate her affections, but didn't want to hurt her feelings.

She thought of the recent excursion to the Sahrnia quarry, which the commander had accompanied them on. Red templars had ambushed she and Max, the commander finding them just in time to shield them from a hail of red lyrium shards. She could have sworn his gaze lingered on her just a little longer than was polite. No. She was seeing things that would never be there, and was a fool to expect otherwise. Still. It'd been on her mind ever since, and she wanted to thank him for essentially saving her life, and Max's.

The way to Cullen's office was only familiar because she had to pass it on the battlements to get to her own adopted quarters. She'd walked the route so many times by now she was sure she could find her way there blindfolded.  
Her confident stride faltered as she reached his office door. She paced the battlements for several minutes, until she rather thought she was frozen; it had gotten much colder, and looked as if it could storm.  
“I hope you know what you're doing.” she whispered to herself as she raised her fist and knocked on the door.  
“Yes, come in!”  
She shook her head and pushed the door open.  
“Ah, Mel. What does the Inquisitor want this time?” he asked, impatient but not without humor.  
“It's okay, you can call him Max.”  
She felt her heartbeat in her ears, accelerating uncomfortably. Surely this was all a mistake. She considered excusing herself and running as fast as possible in the other direction, but no. This misplaced hope had to die, one way or another, or it would haunt her forever. “I...uh, Max didn't send me. I came to see how you were doing.”  
“You...how I'm doing? I'm fine, thank you.”  
She ground her teeth together.  
“Cullen, I wanted to... thank you, for Sahrnia. If you hadn't...shown up when you did...”  
“Oh it was... the Inquisitor endangers himself far too often, going off like that.”  
The Inquisitor. He'd just been worried about the Inquisitor. Her mouth went dry, the color draining from her face. It was all a mistake, an unfounded hallucination.  
“Excu...excuse me, comm...commander.”  
She turned on her heel, hand lingering on his desk. _I'm such an idiot,_ she thought. _To think he worries about you like he even sees you._ “I...uh...sorry, I need to...”  
She burst out a side door without finishing the thought. Her vision blurred with tears as she finally made it back to her room.  
 _Of course he wasn't worried about you, you're a fat, ugly, dumbass mage. You know he was a templar, why would you even... You're a burden on the Inquisition. It'd be so easy to take one wrong step off the battlements, then they could all stop planning damage control for your next blunder._

The sun was considerably lower in the sky, and the weather more inclement when she woke from her unintended nap to knocking at her door. She could scarcely hear it over the howling wind.  
“Em...May I come in?”

Her heart dropped through her stomach at the familiar baritone. She was considering not answering the door at all when a gust of wind threw the door open. A dusting of powdery snow settled on the floor as Cullen shut the door behind him.  
“Come in.” she called, nearly laughing despite her mood. She caught his eye, an all too familiar ache blooming in her chest. Her hands began to tremble. She grabbed the small sketchbook on her nightstand to occupy them.   
“Good evening, Commander. May I help you?” she clipped, more curt than she'd intended. She was hardly looking forward to his imminent rejection, and rather wished he hadn't shown up at all.

“I, uh, merely wanted to see how you're holding up. I misspoke earlier, when you...”

She was unable to hide a dubious snort. “I'm fine, nothing you need to worry about.”

He took a step closer to her. “You're a terrible liar, just like your brother.”

She frowned, her grip on the sketchbook tightening. “What do you want, Commander? Come to see me humiliate myself again? Once not enough for you?”

She took advantage of his stunned silence to really look at him. For once, he wore simple clothes, sans his fancy Inquisition armor. She watched him remove his gloves and wring his hands together. Her stomach lurched as she pictured her fingers interwoven with his.  
She tossed the sketchbook at the nightstand, frustrated. “Earlier I... made an assumption about you. Forgive my stupidity, Commander.”  
 _Now he knows you're an idiot. You've ruined everything- probably the entire Inquisition over this. It's your fault once again. They'll probably make you Tranquil when they find out._  
Her lungs seized for air and her pulse throbbed visibly in her temple.  
“May I... sit down?”  
Her gaze out of focus, she gestured weakly to the chair at her desk, so it was startling when she felt a weight settle next to her on the edge of the bed.  
She couldn't bear to see the disgust surely written all over his face. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
“At the quarry, I was worried...The Inquisitor...”  
Of course.  
“Dammit, please just reject me and get it the hell over with!”  
“Maker that came out wrong, what I meant was...”  
“You must know I've been interested since Haven. I just can't...” She shook her head. “Out with it- You're too fat, you're too stupid, you're a mage, you fuck up too much- whatever it is you came here to say.”  
She was painfully aware of her body as she felt him scoot close enough for their outer thighs to barely touch.  
“Is that what you think?”  
She could swear she heard compassion, perhaps even disbelief, in his voice. She thought back to their chess match, and the way he stumbled over his words each time they spoke. She thought of the game of wicked grace, and how his cheeks turned pink when his hand kept bumping into hers. She thought of his nervous laughter, and that mad blush being the only thing he wore after he lost everything to Josephine. Fear and shame bubbled in her gut. Had she misread him all this time?  
“It only takes eyes.”  
He spoke after a thoughtful pause. “I must need mine checked, then.”  
She scoffed. “This is a joke, it must be. Who put you up to this?”  
She thought back to the Circle. The popular boys were always finding inventive ways to make her embarrass herself in front of everyone; their favorite tactic by far was making it very, publicly clear that they'd rather be Tranquil than go on a date with her. Her shoulders drooped in remembered humiliation. She turned away from him, only reluctantly meeting his gaze when she felt a finger on her chin.

“What would I have to joke about?”

She sighed. “Cullen, you're... and I'm...Not exactly a... Dammit, you could have any one of those, successful, attractive... I just can't compete with that.”

“If I might say so, you don't have to.”

His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as he leaned in, touching his forehead to hers.

“I suppose it's hard to lose when you're the only contestant.”

He chuckled softly. “Is it so difficult to believe that you are desirable?”

“Do nugs shit in the woods?”  
It was silent for a moment, then she began to giggle as she realized what she'd said. Her full on laughter only ceased when she let out a loud, unceremonious giggle snort. Her entire face turned the exact shade of the crimson tunic she wore, but she was secretly thankful for the break in the tension.  
“May I... Uh, would you mind very much if I...gave you a kiss?”

She raised an eyebrow. “After that? It's your funeral.”

“So it is.”

She first noticed the way his stubble scratched her cheek. A piece of his hair was askew, and it tangled in a crooked curl on his forehead. She was so frightened she'd ruin it all that she scarcely felt his lips on hers at all.

He pulled back, eyes roaming her face. “Was that all right?”

“I, eh... don't mean to keep asking you this, but you...really? For me? It just seems... too convenient.”

He coughed, running a hand through his hair. “I've thought of you since...since...”  
He shook his head. “I never acted on it because I worried it was inappropriate. I didn't think the Inquisitor would approve.”

“You do know that I'm technically the eldest sibling, right?”  
A smirk played at the corner of his lips.  
“I still worry; no doubt the Orlesian rumor mill will have a field day with this, and they're... rarely kind. If that would bother you, I...”  
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Orlesians.”  
She played at confidence, but couldn't stop trembling.  
At that moment, a howling gust of wind rattled the door before blowing it wide open.  
“Shit!”  
She nearly fell over him trying to reach the door. It took an effort on both their parts before the door could be forced shut. Afterward, she all but threw herself back at the bed, exhausted, leaning back against the headboard with a dull thud.  
They shared a short laugh, but she all too quickly sobered. She was still reasonably sure this was a dream, and she'd soon wake up as melancholy and alone as she'd ever been.  
They were silent for a few moments. She watched him with hesitant affection as he threw several more logs into the fireplace.  
“You know... I'd hate to throw you back out into a blizzard like that...so...”

“Are you kicking me out?” he joked.

She shook her head.  
“You know...you could always... spend the night here. I mean, if you wanted to. I'm not keeping you prisoner or anything... I just thought...” She waved her hand dismissively. “Forget it, it was stupid of me.”

“You really...wouldn't mind? It's not that far to my office.”

She smirked. “So quick to escape, are you?”

“Maker's breath, I didn't mean it like that. I just... are you all right with it? I, eh, want to stay with you, but I don't want to, err, take advantage...”

She nodded, patting the free space next to her on the bed.

“If I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't have offered.”

She was still surprised when he obliged her.  
They sat for a few moments in silence, which she spent trying to ignore the way he cleared his throat and scooted closer to her, his arm barely bumping into hers. Still, unease nibbled away at her.

“I, uh, I know you're sick to death of hearing me say this, but.. are you...sure?”

“If I seem unsure, it's because it's been a long time since I've...wanted anyone in my life.”

The wind whistled outside, the blizzard in full force. Her blood was ice in her veins as she thought of her escape from Haven.  
She got up, off the bed, and started pacing the floor.

“Is everything all right?”

“Just the cold.”  
She paced the floor a few more times.

“If you're cold, you could, err, join me.”  
“Are you inviting me back to my own bed?”  
She nearly laughed at the subtle shade of scarlet that bloomed from his nose, to his cheeks, and the tips of his ears. “Maker, I didn't mean... I just thought, it is rather cold in here, if you wanted to...sit on me, err _with_ me, **with me**.”

She smiled, her head swimming as if she'd had just a little too much wine.  
“Are you ...asking if I want to... cuddle?” She fell over herself, her pacing forgotten.

“I... yes.” he resigned, sighing.  
It was several minutes before she had the courage to take him up on his offer. Timidly, she lowered herself onto his lap, her ear to his chest.

“Careful, I might smother you to death.” She mumbled.

He leaned back until she could no longer avoid his gently reprimanding gaze.  
“I wish you wouldn't say things like that.”

“You have looked at me, right?” she snorted sleepily.

“I'm serious.”  
His arm settled around her shoulder, and she sank back into his chest. 

“And I'm the queen of Antiva.”  
She fisted her free hand at the neckline of his shirt, her fingers grazing his skin.

“Your hands are freezing!”

“We're sitting on the blankets.”

He moved just enough to free a section of the blanket, which he offered to her. She slid off his lap and pulled the blanket up to her chin.  
“If you behave yourself I'll share my blanket.”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “You're too kind.”  
He sank under the blanket, flush next to her. She yawned largely and rolled over onto her stomach, half covering him.

“Excuse me.”

“You're excused.”

She stifled another yawn as she settled her head into his chest. He freed the hand that had been under her and traced small, comforting circles into the shaved sides of her scalp.

“Beware, I'm told I snore.” she mumbled, heavy with sleep.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

She gave no reply but a quiet whistling with a snort at the end.  
“Maker, I might have to marry this woman.”


End file.
